Steve shouldn't have been there -- he shouldn't have allowed the smaller man to talk himself on it; should probably have tied him up and kept him locked at home just so he doesn't get himself out and about into trouble. It was a narrow shave, and Bucky can't help running it over and over again in his head, seeing the worst case scenario and hating himself for not putting up more of an argument.
Steve shouldn't be out there in the field at all; he has no business being where Bucky is, not when he's the most important person in Bucky's world. If he loses Steve, he loses everything, and Bucky had been terrified in the split second where it lookedlike he was going to be targeted.
And when they reach home, his rage, his anger hasn't abated in the least. He's glad Steve is safe with him; that's all he can ever ask for, but he grabs a hold of Steve's wrist, his gaze burning, ferocious. ]
[ The vehemence of Bucky's reaction is startling. He's gripping his wrist hard, far from the gentle way Bucky usually touches him, like he fears breaking him in this form, except when he's so aroused he'll take and use Steve however he pleases; his eyes are black and snapping with fury, and Steve can't help a wry smile, remembering the times that this argument was reversed. He puts his fingers over Bucky's hand on his wrist, not trying to loosen his grasp but to soothe. Steve can take Bucky's anger. He can take all of him, the dark parts as well as the good, the hints of brutality that have left their scars in him from the years as HYDRA's weapon; he's Steve's to care for, just as Steve is his. ]
I know my limits, Bucky. This is the real me, remember? Back in Brooklyn, how I used to pick all those fights? But it's not about having something to prove anymore. I've got to do what I can. Being like this--it doesn't make me helpless.
[ He's firm on that point, his earnest gaze imploring Bucky to understand. Steve knows how badly Bucky wants to protect him. He just can't let him keep him in a cage, keep him locked away so safe that he'll never be permitted to help anyone, or protect Bucky in turn. ]
I'm sorry I scared you. I really am. [ Steve lowers his head to kiss Bucky's fingers, soft and sweet. He'll prove it to him, whatever it takes. Steve will never let him suffer again. ]
[ It's not far from his memory too, the way Steve had been overprotective of him, the way he hadn't wanted Bucky out to battle and would be furious whenever he followed. He understands this now, belatedly, and how infuriating it must've been for Steve when Bucky dug in his heels and refused to fall in.
But this is different, right? This is Steve getting himself into all sorts of trouble, and Bucky fighting hard to keep him alive, to keep him safe. He doesn't release his grip, doesn't buy a word of what Steve's saying because all he thinks of is the man hurt, or even worse, and he's not sure what he would do if Steve is injured on his account.
He's Bucky's to care for, to love and to protect, and he scowls at him -- no. No, he doesn't understand. He doesn't want him to get out there and get injuries; Steve's more fragile now that he's back in this form, and his anger doesn't abate. ]
You're not sorry. [ He twists his fingers after the kiss, grips Steve's jaw and forces him to look up, his eyes stormy with cold anger. ] You're going to keep doing it.
[ Steve's voice is low and he rubs at his friend's wrist, trying to calm him, wanting to see the shadow of fear gone from his eyes. He doesn't try to resist his hold at all, doesn't try to break free. If Bucky wants to take his fury out on Steve, he can; he won't flinch from him, this man who is his best friend in the world, who has been to dark places that Steve can only imagine, suffered in ways that are beyond the limits of what a human being should be able to endure without breaking entirely. That Bucky hasn't broken like that, hasn't been left an irreparable shell of himself, is a testament to his incredible strength.
Steve knows that him being hurt beyond repair could be the end for him, could be the thing that finally crushes him into a thousand tiny pieces. He doesn't intend for that to happen, but it could. Like this, he's just a human, fragile and small, with all of an ordinary human's limitations. ]
I'm going to be careful. I know what I can do like this. I swear to you, I'm not looking to throw myself in the line of fire anymore. Those days are over. [ He keeps his voice steady, but Steve's heart is going fast and his breath is coming a little tighter, because Bucky like this--looming over him, with rough hands and cold fury in his eyes, menacing and tense as a live wire--is one of the most incredible things Steve's ever seen. He's gorgeous, and it takes his breath away. ] But don't you see, Buck? I can't promise--if it was you, if it was you in the line of fire I'd come running.
[ And that's the problem -- Bucky doesn't want him to come running; Steve's not like he was before, and with this form he needs to pay more attention to his body and his limits. Bucky loves him just as much, adores him and wants more than anything to keep him safe, but how can he do that when Steve doesn't even exercise the faintest sort of self-control?
He loosens his hold just a little, because no matter how angry and frustrated he is with his soulmate, his lover, he doesn't want to hurt him. He won't take his rage out on him no matter how much he wants to -- Steve could very well break in his hands, and his Steve is the only thing in the world that matters to him.
He shakes his head, then. ]
You don't get it. I don't want you to.
[ And is Steve actually aroused by this? He knows the man intimately enough to be aware of all the visual cues, and it seems like this one -- well, this one is particularly potent. He leans closer, deliberately intimidating, pushing him back onto the bed that they share together. ]
You terrified me, Steve. You made me think that you were about to die. How should I punish you for that?
[ Of course Bucky doesn't want him to; Steve understands perfectly. He's been on that side of this argument a dozen times before. And he knows Bucky must understand too what it's like to stand in his place, to know that no matter how much the person you loved wants to keep you safe, there is nothing you wouldn't do, no danger you wouldn't face to save him. Steve remembers the helicarrier, he remembers how he would have laid down his life then and there in exchange for Bucky's, how he would have gone down with him in fire and smoke if he couldn't protect him, couldn't wake him back to himself; he would do it again, he would do it a thousand times, for Bucky.
His breath stutters a little as Bucky pushes him down to the bed, eyes getting wider, darker. Steve forgets sometimes how different the two of them are now, how much littler Steve is, how much bigger Bucky is, how that metal arm makes his shoulders look huge and the whole of him so much more menacing than he was seventy years ago. Steve isn't afraid of him and never has been: he thinks he's beautiful, every inch of him, skin and scars and gleaming metal, and Bucky at his most intimidating takes his breath away like nothing else. Steve can't help but touch him, reaching for that metal hand and lifting it, heavy and gleaming, to his mouth, touching his lips to his palm, his eyes on Bucky's face. ] Any way you want. [ He says it in a husky voice and he means it, he would do anything for Bucky, suffer any punishment he deemed fit. ]
[ Bucky knows all of it, he knows how Steve wouldn't hesitate to lay down his life for him, but at what cost? What would Bucky have left to live for if Steve isn't around? It's as selfish as it is selfless, because Bucky would much rather follow Steve wherever he went, even if it's into death.
He doesn't want him to do it, not in this state, and he's sure that Steve gets it; only that the man's stubbornness had pretty much overridden everything. He cannot get enough of it, he thinks, when Steve so greedily takes him in and thinks he's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, although Bucky can never see it.
He shakes his head, shuddering, because those lips against his metal hand is the most delightful thing he can ever savor. Unable to take his eyes off him, he takes in a sharp breath, fingers curling against Steve's cheek. ]
[ Bucky's fingers curve over his cheek and Steve's heart gives a little thump beneath his ribs, painful and loving. For a moment he just covers Bucky's hand with his, those heavy metal fingers with his long, slender ones, holding them cupped against the side of his face as they gaze at one another, and Steve is so sorry, he wishes Bucky knew how sorry he is for scaring him. There's nothing more in the world he wants than to be the source of Bucky's joy and pleasure, to make every day that comes so much sweeter than the ones they left behind them.
Then at last he lets go, shifting on the mattress to get his knees under him; he strips his shirt up over his head, first, and now Bucky can see that the flush of arousal in his skin goes down his throat and his collar and his chest, that he's breathing harder just because Bucky's near him. He opens his belt and drops his pants, his color deepening when it exposes him already starting to get hard, already wanting.
He kicks his clothes off the side of his bed and shuffles a little closer to the edge of the mattress, closer to Bucky, gazing up at him. Steve's eyes are steady. He wants to reach for his friend again, wants to pull him near, hold onto him tight. ] Gonna punish me now, Buck?
[ Bucky moves, swift and merciless, catching his lovely friend by his neck and pinning him down onto the bed. He's not brutal, even if he's rough, taking care not to bruise or hurt him anymore than needed, or to press down on his windpipe in any way. Steve seems so fragile under him. He keeps him pinned down firmly when he's nice and naked, so very beautiful in the dim light.
Bucky's eyes darken, with want, with burning desire -- he's always loved Steve, adored him beyond anything else he's ever known, and in this all he wants to do is ravish him, punish him, love him.
Crawling over his lover's body, he growls, low and quiet as he lowers his head to brush his lips over his ear. ]
[ His pulse rachets up as soon as Bucky seizes him by the throat, the surge of adrenaline blowing his eyes wide and dark. He ends up flat on his back, gripping at Bucky's wrist as though he could pull that heavy arm off of him--he wouldn't stand a chance in the world, he wouldn't want to--and his cock giving an aching throb as his friend climbs over him, beautiful and predatory, merciless, his eyes dark with anger or desire. Just now it's hard to separate the two: they're all tangled up in him, Steve suspects. Bucky probably wants to hurt him as much as he wants to love him, and still he is so careful with him, pinning him down but never hurting his throat or restricting breath.
It hitches anyway, though, his lungs stopping for a moment when Bucky murmurs in his ear, hot and dangerous. Steve tips his chin in a nod, brushing his metal shoulder with his fingers: all right, he won't ask for anything, he'll do as he's told. He wants to show Bucky his devotion, show him how much he's loved; he'd submit to anything his lover wanted if it would convince him. ]
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no subject
Steve shouldn't have been there -- he shouldn't have allowed the smaller man to talk himself on it; should probably have tied him up and kept him locked at home just so he doesn't get himself out and about into trouble. It was a narrow shave, and Bucky can't help running it over and over again in his head, seeing the worst case scenario and hating himself for not putting up more of an argument.
Steve shouldn't be out there in the field at all; he has no business being where Bucky is, not when he's the most important person in Bucky's world. If he loses Steve, he loses everything, and Bucky had been terrified in the split second where it lookedlike he was going to be targeted.
And when they reach home, his rage, his anger hasn't abated in the least. He's glad Steve is safe with him; that's all he can ever ask for, but he grabs a hold of Steve's wrist, his gaze burning, ferocious. ]
No more. There'll be no next time for you, Steve.
no subject
I know my limits, Bucky. This is the real me, remember? Back in Brooklyn, how I used to pick all those fights? But it's not about having something to prove anymore. I've got to do what I can. Being like this--it doesn't make me helpless.
[ He's firm on that point, his earnest gaze imploring Bucky to understand. Steve knows how badly Bucky wants to protect him. He just can't let him keep him in a cage, keep him locked away so safe that he'll never be permitted to help anyone, or protect Bucky in turn. ]
I'm sorry I scared you. I really am. [ Steve lowers his head to kiss Bucky's fingers, soft and sweet. He'll prove it to him, whatever it takes. Steve will never let him suffer again. ]
no subject
But this is different, right? This is Steve getting himself into all sorts of trouble, and Bucky fighting hard to keep him alive, to keep him safe. He doesn't release his grip, doesn't buy a word of what Steve's saying because all he thinks of is the man hurt, or even worse, and he's not sure what he would do if Steve is injured on his account.
He's Bucky's to care for, to love and to protect, and he scowls at him -- no. No, he doesn't understand. He doesn't want him to get out there and get injuries; Steve's more fragile now that he's back in this form, and his anger doesn't abate. ]
You're not sorry. [ He twists his fingers after the kiss, grips Steve's jaw and forces him to look up, his eyes stormy with cold anger. ] You're going to keep doing it.
no subject
[ Steve's voice is low and he rubs at his friend's wrist, trying to calm him, wanting to see the shadow of fear gone from his eyes. He doesn't try to resist his hold at all, doesn't try to break free. If Bucky wants to take his fury out on Steve, he can; he won't flinch from him, this man who is his best friend in the world, who has been to dark places that Steve can only imagine, suffered in ways that are beyond the limits of what a human being should be able to endure without breaking entirely. That Bucky hasn't broken like that, hasn't been left an irreparable shell of himself, is a testament to his incredible strength.
Steve knows that him being hurt beyond repair could be the end for him, could be the thing that finally crushes him into a thousand tiny pieces. He doesn't intend for that to happen, but it could. Like this, he's just a human, fragile and small, with all of an ordinary human's limitations. ]
I'm going to be careful. I know what I can do like this. I swear to you, I'm not looking to throw myself in the line of fire anymore. Those days are over. [ He keeps his voice steady, but Steve's heart is going fast and his breath is coming a little tighter, because Bucky like this--looming over him, with rough hands and cold fury in his eyes, menacing and tense as a live wire--is one of the most incredible things Steve's ever seen. He's gorgeous, and it takes his breath away. ] But don't you see, Buck? I can't promise--if it was you, if it was you in the line of fire I'd come running.
no subject
He loosens his hold just a little, because no matter how angry and frustrated he is with his soulmate, his lover, he doesn't want to hurt him. He won't take his rage out on him no matter how much he wants to -- Steve could very well break in his hands, and his Steve is the only thing in the world that matters to him.
He shakes his head, then. ]
You don't get it. I don't want you to.
[ And is Steve actually aroused by this? He knows the man intimately enough to be aware of all the visual cues, and it seems like this one -- well, this one is particularly potent. He leans closer, deliberately intimidating, pushing him back onto the bed that they share together. ]
You terrified me, Steve. You made me think that you were about to die. How should I punish you for that?
no subject
[ Of course Bucky doesn't want him to; Steve understands perfectly. He's been on that side of this argument a dozen times before. And he knows Bucky must understand too what it's like to stand in his place, to know that no matter how much the person you loved wants to keep you safe, there is nothing you wouldn't do, no danger you wouldn't face to save him. Steve remembers the helicarrier, he remembers how he would have laid down his life then and there in exchange for Bucky's, how he would have gone down with him in fire and smoke if he couldn't protect him, couldn't wake him back to himself; he would do it again, he would do it a thousand times, for Bucky.
His breath stutters a little as Bucky pushes him down to the bed, eyes getting wider, darker. Steve forgets sometimes how different the two of them are now, how much littler Steve is, how much bigger Bucky is, how that metal arm makes his shoulders look huge and the whole of him so much more menacing than he was seventy years ago. Steve isn't afraid of him and never has been: he thinks he's beautiful, every inch of him, skin and scars and gleaming metal, and Bucky at his most intimidating takes his breath away like nothing else. Steve can't help but touch him, reaching for that metal hand and lifting it, heavy and gleaming, to his mouth, touching his lips to his palm, his eyes on Bucky's face. ] Any way you want. [ He says it in a husky voice and he means it, he would do anything for Bucky, suffer any punishment he deemed fit. ]
no subject
He doesn't want him to do it, not in this state, and he's sure that Steve gets it; only that the man's stubbornness had pretty much overridden everything. He cannot get enough of it, he thinks, when Steve so greedily takes him in and thinks he's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, although Bucky can never see it.
He shakes his head, shuddering, because those lips against his metal hand is the most delightful thing he can ever savor. Unable to take his eyes off him, he takes in a sharp breath, fingers curling against Steve's cheek. ]
Take your clothes off.
no subject
Then at last he lets go, shifting on the mattress to get his knees under him; he strips his shirt up over his head, first, and now Bucky can see that the flush of arousal in his skin goes down his throat and his collar and his chest, that he's breathing harder just because Bucky's near him. He opens his belt and drops his pants, his color deepening when it exposes him already starting to get hard, already wanting.
He kicks his clothes off the side of his bed and shuffles a little closer to the edge of the mattress, closer to Bucky, gazing up at him. Steve's eyes are steady. He wants to reach for his friend again, wants to pull him near, hold onto him tight. ] Gonna punish me now, Buck?
no subject
Bucky's eyes darken, with want, with burning desire -- he's always loved Steve, adored him beyond anything else he's ever known, and in this all he wants to do is ravish him, punish him, love him.
Crawling over his lover's body, he growls, low and quiet as he lowers his head to brush his lips over his ear. ]
I didn't say you could ask for anything.
no subject
It hitches anyway, though, his lungs stopping for a moment when Bucky murmurs in his ear, hot and dangerous. Steve tips his chin in a nod, brushing his metal shoulder with his fingers: all right, he won't ask for anything, he'll do as he's told. He wants to show Bucky his devotion, show him how much he's loved; he'd submit to anything his lover wanted if it would convince him. ]